Luna's Way
by Nargled
Summary: Yet another EWE, in a very different and Luna way.


Luna's Way

A/N: A little flight of fancy that invaded my brain over the holidays (Last year! Yeah, haven't got Christmas letters out this year either). A very, very different epilogue. Happy Christmas.

Sorry, Harry, Luna is my second favourite character after Hermione, and for some reason canon has Hermione with Ron. I continue to own nothing other than an overactive imagination (and a glacially slow writing rate. Sigh). Little dialogue in this one, but I don't think it could be told any other way.

Thanks, Ms. Rowling.

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Luna popped into existence across from 12 Grimmauld Place. The street was quiet, distant automobile sounds the only noise. No one was about, and the windows were all dark, in contrast to the lit windows and visible activity in numbers 11 and 13. The house gave off a sense of abandonment.

Forgoing her final year at Hogwarts, she and her father had rebuilt the Rookery and then spent the late summer and fall traveling, just being together and looking for Snorkacks. She had returned in time for the November Hogsmeade's weekend, and had met her friends there for lunch. Harry was absent, and the reports she got on him weren't encouraging. A small flame of anger simmered deep inside. Normally, fire would keep her warm. This one did not.

She crossed the street and stomped up the stairs. It felt good to stomp. She thought she should do it more often. Maybe Tuesdays could be stomping day. Reaching the door, she changed her knock to a series of pounds. Pounding went well with the stomping. She waited patiently. Ron and Hermione had said no one would answer, as no one had answered them, but maybe they didn't stomp and pound. She didn't try the handle yet. Reportedly bad things happened to people who had. She would see.

The door creaked open and a familiar old elf scowled up at her. Yes, stomping and pounding were the key. "Hello, Kreacher. I'm here for Harry."

Kreacher continued to scowl as he stared at her. She felt the magic of the house and the elf eddying around her. Kreacher's scowl softened fractionally.

"Yes, yes you are." He opened the door wide. "Please come in. Master Harry… has not been well."

She set her hat, coat, and gloves on a chair in the entryway. "Well, he's not been done well _to_ , so it's no surprise that he's not _been_ well. Perhaps I can help."

Kreacher nodded. If only all witches and wizards made as much sense as this one. "Master is in his room. This way, please."

Luna followed the elf up two flights of stairs. No stomping this time. It didn't seem needed. He led her down a dark hallway to the last door on the left. "He is here. He forbids Kreacher from coming in."

She weighed his words carefully. Elves did not use them like people did. "Has he forbid that I go in?"

The old elf looked thoughtful, then almost smiled. "No, he has not mentioned you at all, so has not forbid you, and is not awake to deny you."

She could imagine herself being hurt by that in some other situation, but today it was a good thing. If he hadn't forbid her entry, then she could enter.

"Thank you Kreacher. I'll let you know what I need in a bit."

Kreacher looked relieved. "Of course, Mistress Lovegood."

Luna opened the door, the gloom of the hallway only slightly dispelling the pitch black of the room. She shuffled in cautiously, her feet soon knocking aside something that sounded like glass. Her scowl matched that of Kreacher. She cast a low powered _lumos_.

Harry was sprawled out on his bed, fully clothed, an empty Ogden's bottle next to him. More bottles littered the floor. Luna wrinkled her nose at the smell of firewhiskey combined with unwashed bedding, socks, and person. She sighed.

Hermione and Ron had each other. Ginny and Neville had each other. Harry had a medal he hated, adulation he didn't want, funerals he felt obligated to attend, and surviving family members he felt he had to apologise to. He hadn't gone back to Hogwarts for his final year, but hadn't taken the offer to directly enrol in the Auror Academy either. There was nowhere he could go without being praised or blamed for the events of the war, without being mobbed. Nowhere he could go and just be Harry. It was obvious to her that his friends should be _here_ rather than at school, at least until Harry was centred again. If she had known, she would have come sooner. Apparently his only friend was Mr. Ogden.

Waving her wand, she lit a few candles, banished the bottles to the kitchen for Kreacher to deal with, and _scourgified_ the bedclothes, Harry's clothes, and even Harry himself. He barely stirred. She pulled out the desk chair and slouched back in it, slowly twisting back and forth, watching Harry sleep. He needed a different way, or he would end up where he was currently headed. Which was a bad thing. Harry needed a good thing. Harry deserved the best thing.

Luna twisted harder and picked up her feet, spinning in circles. She thought better that way. She tipped her head back, watching the ceiling going round and round. She wondered when she had stopped spinning and the room had started. And then Luna knew what the best thing ever was. At least to her. Maybe he would help. She drug the room to a stop with her feet, then spun around to the desk, digging out from the great pile a piece of parchment, quill, and a pot of ink that wasn't dried out, and cleared a place to write by pushing all the rest to the floor. Harry still didn't stir. She thought for a moment, then put quill to page.

 _Dear Santa_ ….

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The disappearance of Harry Potter was officially the largest story of the decade, as measured by the _Prophet_ in articles written, words written, special editions printed, letters to the editor submitted, theories suggested, and overall importance, edging out the end of Voldemort's reign in all categories. Except of course for the category of facts, as there weren't any. No one even knew when he really disappeared. Grimmauld Place was found empty and spotless by Ron and Hermione over the Christmas break. There wasn't any sign that Harry had ever been there, and Kreacher was gone as well.

Oddly enough, it was the one topic that _The Quibbler_ never covered. When pressed, Luna just shrugged and said maybe he needed a holiday, but then no one ever took Luna seriously.

When Luna 'disappeared' a year later, no one even noticed.

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Nineteen years later…

Luna stepped out of her house into the clear, frigid twilight of mid afternoon in northern Sweden. The Milky Way was glorious, with a shimmering skirt of blues and greens from the aurora. It made her think of a bowl of pudding on her favourite table cloth. She puffed out a big breath of air, smiling as the fog turned into sparkling crystals.

She tromped down the steps off the porch and through the new snow across the compound to the little workshop directly across, next to the reindeer pens. She liked tromping, even better than stomping. Though stomping in a way had brought her here. Not all the way of course; portkey, floo, apparition, and finally a sleigh had done most of it, but stomping had started the journey. But now that she was here, tromping was the thing to do. The light from the few tiny windows cast bright spots of colour on the snow. She stopped and gave the reindeer a scratch and a pat each, and made sure they all had feed and a little treat. Ironically, today was the one day of the winter that they wouldn't be out.

She still thought of them as snorcacks, but had been assured that reindeer was the more common name. Which was confusing, as they had nothing to do with rain, or rulers, and very few actually ever wore reins. She was able to correct the snorcack entry about them subsisting entirely on snow. They dug at the snow to get to the lichen and moss _underneath_. That little point of confusion was why she and her father had such problems in tracking them down, as they were always looking for them at the wrong end of their migratory route. That and no one used their _real_ name.

Reaching the workshop, she stepped into the entryway, hanging up her hat, coat, and gloves, and changed her tromping boots for indoor clogs. Placing her palm on the rune-covered stone next to the inner door, she waited until it glowed in recognition and the door popped open. Closing it carefully behind her, she turned and smiled, enjoying as always the sight of the single largest indoor space on the planet, brightly lit by the thousands of expansion runes that covered the floor, walls and ceiling. The main production hangers of Boeing and Airbus would fit happily side by side in one corner, with enough room between to prevent them starting another trade war. Thousands of elves scurried about the vast floor far beneath her, looking like, well, tiny elves. Luna couldn't sort out why everyone thought they should look like ants.

Stepping forward onto an overhanging slab of stone with a hand rail around the edge, she searched for her children as she was slowly lowered down the inner wall a hundred feet to the workshop floor. They saw her before she saw them, and they came running with their latest creations, meeting her just as she landed.

Lorcan and Lysander were ten, and brought her the plastic action figures they had helped design, and now assembled. Something about transforming deceptors. Perhaps Harry could explain it better. James was seven, and showed her the wooden nutcracker that he had carved and painted. Lilly Luna, at only four, was led over by Kreacher to show her the colouring she had done, the pink unicorn and its invisible friends dancing across the page. Luna praised them all for their marvellous work, then led them back to their table in the apprentice area, her children chattering away around her.

"How go the preparations, Kreacher?"

"On schedule as always, Mistress Luna. Manufacturing is complete, and wrapping and packing is nearly so. They should be ready for you at the back."

Luna bent to place a kiss on Kreacher's head. "Thank you Kreacher. For everything."

Kreacher failed to scowl convincingly. "Of course, Mistress Luna."

She smiled. Kreacher was such a dear. She clapped her hands. "Come along children. It's time to see daddy and Santa."

After a few false starts getting the cheering children to actually put their things away, remove their aprons, and have their hands spelled clean, she led them farther into the middle of the workshop to the nearest tram stop.

Soon the tram arrived and the children dashed on, picking their own seats after testing several to see if they were the right one, Luna and Kreacher sitting in the middle of the car to better keep an eye on them all. She hummed to herself quietly as they passed the paper rollers, printing presses, vacuum-, roto-, and injection- moulders, glass and metal furnaces, assembly lines, painting booths, packaging machines and gift wrappers, all manned by thousands and thousands of happy elves, who stopped to wave as the train went by. She enjoyed listening to their happy squeaky voices as they greeted her and her brood.

She watched as after each present was wrapped it was sucked up a tube to land high above on the miles and miles of conveyor belts that swiftly carried them towards the back, merging again and again to form a moving freeway of brilliant colours, bows, and ribbons.

Reaching the far end, they were launched out over a giant, glowing, rune-covered funnel. The presents slid and spiralled down as the narrowing funnel violated several laws of physics, shrinking them and negating their mass before dropping them into a great quilted many-coloured sack with white fur trim.

Twenty minutes and five miles later, their tram reached the stop at far end of the workshop and slowed to a halt. Other than the end of the funnel and the sack, the only other things at this part of the shop were a small wooden door in the end wall, her husband Harry, and Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Her children leapt off as soon as the tram came to a stop and raced to Harry, hugging him about the legs or tugging at his hand for attention, Harry taking care to talk to each one.

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Luna smiled contentedly at the scene. Every day she was thankful that she wrote that letter, and that Santa replied, showing up a day later to take Harry to the workshop. He had been cleaned up, sobered up, allowed to rest and recover, and given an opportunity. Apprentice to the Santas. Within a week he agreed, and his education began.

Private tutoring for his NEWTs, as well as practical masteries in Runes and Charms. Santa was a progressive thinker, so he also put Harry through his A levels and a business degree, then sponsored him for an MBA from Booth School of Business. Finally, on to a black belt in Six Sigma. Harry began taking on more and more responsibility, working his way up the production floor to administration, to second in command. Now, it was time for Harry to take the final step.

The children swarmed Santa after Harry, and he too took the time to talk with each one. Luna greeted Ms. Claus with hug. "Happy Christmas, Greta."

"Happy Christmas, Luna. Your flock certainly is excited today."

Luna smiled. "They're excited every day."

Ms. Claus chuckled. "True, true." She looked over to Harry, who was now standing by the sack as the last few presents flowed in. "Is Harry ready?"

"As ready as he can be. Only so much can be explained."

"He'll do fine."

Luna just nodded as her children appeared to have run out of things to tell Santa.

"Luna, welcome, and Happy Christmas!" he boomed.

She gave him a big hug. "Happy Christmas, Santa."

"Come, it's time." He led the way to Harry and the sack, which had disengaged itself from the funnel and sealed itself. All the presents had been loaded, and the elves were popping in by the hundreds, sounding like rain on their home's wood roof.

They all gathered around Harry. "It is the day, and the hour." Santa lifted the nargle-free wreath of holly and mistletoe from his head. "For you, Harry."

Harry took the wreath and placed it on his head. He could feel the magic whispering to him, and a rush of knowledge and memories, telling him of the history of the Santas, how to do what he must do, names of thousands upon thousands of children. He blinked a few times to bring himself back to the here and now. Santa was smiling at him.

"Thank you, Santa."

"No, thank you, Santa." He wrapped Harry in a great hug, the released him. "Your first step?"

Harry closed his eyes, and the magic swirled around them both. Santa was left in sturdy workshop clothes, while Harry was now garbed in the traditional green with white trim. Harry felt the magic of the workshop bind to him, a constant humming in the background. The elves let out a great squeaky cheer as their magic bound to him as well, like thousands of bright bouncy lights. Harry was dizzy with the magic stretching and pulling at him. He swayed on his feet a bit, then steadied and opened his eyes.

Santa smiled. "Excellent. Now grab your sack, you have a trip to make."

Harry hoisted his sack to his shoulder, gave each of his kids a hug and kiss, and Luna more of one, then headed for the door in the back wall, following the new memories from the crown.

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Hundreds of years ago, as the belief in Santa had spread across the globe with the migration of people and their many, many descendants, there became too many children to deliver presents to via reindeer and sleigh, even with all the magics the Santas could bring to bear. The workshop had nearly limitless power from the ley line underneath, but that magic couldn't be used on the sleigh once it left the ground. The Santa of the time nearly pulled his beard out in frustration, knowing the ley magic could be used to help deliver the presents, just not how. He designed the sleigh bigger, smaller, lighter, faster, more reindeer, fewer, but no plan would solve the apparently insurmountably large number of children that needed to be reached in one night. Even the time dilation magics that he might be able to… borrow... wouldn't solve his problem.

He was about to start training elves to drive a small sleigh drawn by one reindeer each, trying to ignore the _huge_ risk of discovery raised by thousands of somewhat flighty and distractible elves flying about the world. More than likely they wouldn't leave their first house until it was cleaned top to bottom and breakfast made and served to the very surprised occupants.

Finally, in an act of desperation, he went to see an old friend of his at the Ministry of Magic in Nykoping for advice. As his friend walked him through the main hall, he saw the newly installed bank of floos, with visitors and employees erupting out one after the other. He stopped and stared, before breaking out in laughter. The solution of how to travel farther and faster was to not travel at all. If only all problems could be solved so easily. They had a very pleasant lunch together, where the new floo technology was a large part of the conversation.

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Harry opened the door in the back wall of the workshop, and went down the narrow spiral stairs carved from the rock itself. It got brighter and brighter as he descended, the stairs ending in a small round room. The floor was of solid stone, with a wide streak down the middle that shimmered blue and green like the aurora high above. If anyone had been able to get a compass to work down there, they would have noticed that the blue and green shimmers were heading nearly due north.

Harry knelt carefully on the undulating light, and placed his hand on it. It was cool and tingly and warm all at once. He had once pet a polar bear, the silky fur coated in tiny frost crystals, but moving and warm and _alive_ underneath. This felt like that, but a hundred times more.

He took a big breath, and let it out. Santa magic was not like other magic. It was purely intent based, and simple words acted as the trigger. The knowledge from the crown told him what should happen. He gripped his sack tightly.

"Flytta."

He disappeared.

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The North Pole is not easily defined with any precision. The axis that the Earth spins around shifts slightly year to year in its endless precession. And it's not the same as the magnetic north pole, which also wanders a bit, if it's not flipping completely to the South Pole for a visit instead. There's no actual land mass, but drifting ice over four thousand plus feet of frigid seawater. At the bottom is mud. The Russians did manage to send a submersible down and plant a flag fairly close to it, and submarines occasionally drifted quietly over it, but really, it was one of the most useless actual points on the planet.

The magical North Pole can be more precisely defined. Under a thousand feet of mud is bedrock, and in that bedrock is the point where the primary ley lines of the northern hemisphere meet. They also shift and flow, coruscating hypnotically, but always anchored at a common final fixed point. A point known to very few, and visited by only one person only once per year. Harry Potter erupted out of that point in a splash of magic and colour, his sack flying out of his hands.

"Whoooooa." He landed a dozen feet away and slid across the floor another dozen. Struggling to his feet, he staggered a bit before he was able to stand straight. If apparating felt like being squeezed through a tiny tube, ley travel felt like being shoved into a giant fire hose before getting stuck at the nozzle at the end while the magic built up to the point you felt like you were going to explode before getting squirted out.

He looked around. He stood at the very bottom of a thousand foot spherical cavern in the bedrock, eerily lit by the magic flowing under his feet. He reached out for his sack, and squinted his eyes shut in reflex from the brilliance emanating from his hand. And apparently also lit by the excess magic flowing through him. He blinked the spots away, and managed to pick up the sack. Turning, he saw the stone pillar, rising up five hundred feet to end at the centre of the cavern. Walking over, he stood on the edge of the ley nexus, and found the activation rune. Hiding his eyes, he put his hands on it as instructed, and felt a pull as the excess magic was sucked out of him. Runes lit up on the pillar, one after the other, faster and faster, to the top until it lit up like a beacon.

Then Harry felt the magic start to flow _through_ him, from the ley lines under his feet out through his hands. He felt like his insides were expanding to be as big as the cavern he was in to contain the torrent. Millions of runes spread from the base of the pillar, some twenty feet across, others mere specks, all lighting up like flashbulbs, until the entire inner surface of the cavern was lit as bright as a summer noon.

The deluge of magic eased to a trickle, then stopped. Blinking his eyes against the brightness, Harry found his next rune on the pillar. Grabbing his sack, he placed his hand on it, and cringed slightly in anticipation.

"Upp."

Instead of the violence of ley travel, Harry felt himself slowly _flow_ into the pillar before being squeezed like toothpaste into a puddle at the top. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of all magical travel, he stood, straightened his clothes, and yet again picked up his sack.

Trying to ignore the five hundred foot drop, he eased his way over to the only part of the circular top with a guard rail. Setting his sack down behind him carefully, he gripped the rail, and once he felt the magic, said "Stracka."

The rail started to bow out, then the stone under his feet stretched like taffy, forming a gangway that reached straight out, strengthening and levitation runes lighting up as it went, until he ended mere inches away from the rune-lit curve of the dome. Gripping the rail, he took another deep breath. This part freaked him out the most.

"Dubbel."

The millions of runes dimmed ever so slightly, then he had the oddest sensation he had felt so far, and given his history that was saying a lot. He felt a _shift_ and a _pull_ , and the gangway split into two, as did Harry and his sack. He shook his head to clear it again, before meeting the stare of himself, who was also shaking his head to clear it. Even weirder, he was also aware of being the other Harry, looking back at… himself?

Recalling Santa's advice on not panicking, or even thinking too much about it, he merely smiled and nodded to… himself, amused as… he… did the same thing. The gangways slowly realigned, one above the other, as the runes regained their brilliance. In tandem, the two Harrys said, "dubbel" again, the runes dimmed, and now there were four Harrys. Ignoring the numerous paradoxes and impossibilities, Harry(s) focused on the doubling process, until there was a huge stack of Harrys on gangways facing the wall.

The next split dimmed the runes significantly as the entire column divided into to two, the runes taking longer to recharge. Then, every few minutes the number of gangways, Harrys, and sacks doubled and moved about the sphere, the runes dimming more and more with each split, taking longer and longer to recharge. Eventually, there would be _millions_ of Harrys with millions of sacks on millions of gangways, one for each household with children that believed in Santa, packed into the sphere. Harry(s) wasn't sure if the sphere was growing, or if t(he)y shrunk with each split, but somehow there was room for t(he)m all.

While the columns were still undergoing their exponential growth, a dark line spread up and down from the original Harry, reaching from the bottom of the pillar to the peak of the dome, and ever so slowly began inching its way around the sphere, marking the dead of night over the Earth.

The runes were humming with power, magic arcing from the ley lines to the pillar off the ends of the gangways to the sphere to maintain the process. Harry prime looked at his watch. It was time. He and his column faced the wall and as one said, "Portal," the cavern echoing with the thousands of voices.

In front of each of them, the wall shimmered, and for each a portal to their assigned home appeared. For some, it was a fireplace, linked to its mate. For others it was a door. For many, it was just a shimmering circle of stone.

Harry(s) reached through their portal and cast a gentle _somnus,_ assuring all the occupants would be fast asleep, before following a few minutes later to deliver their presents. T(he)y reemerged just as the Harry(s) next to them cast their spells and then disappeared through their portals. The column of Harry(s) that had delivered their gifts slowly collapsed together.

The process blurred in Harry's' mind. Homes, apartments, slums, hovels, mansions, cars, huts, church basements, shanties, hospitals, shelters, all linked together by the presence of children that _believed_ , believed that someone knew and cared about them, that something magical could happen to them. For some, it would be the only magical experience of their year. For some, it would be barely remarked. For some, it would be their last visit, as their belief would fade.

Twenty-four hours later, the last column of Harry(s) reemerged from their portals and coalesced into one. Harry the last looked to Harry the first, and they both nodded tiredly as the gangways melted together from the pillar out, ending with Harry(s) and their now empty sacks. The final gangway retracted to the pillar top, and Harry was slowly squeezed to the cavern floor.

He lay on the now faint ley conjunction, looking up. The runes were flickering out, until the walls disappeared into darkness, only the small area around him lit by pale ley light. Harry was exhausted. He felt vast, small, stretched, compressed, wrung out, like his insides were bigger than his outside, and weren't quite sure they wanted to be stuffed back in. He had been the conduit for the single largest magical event ever created by humans. He had done millions of tiny acts of kindness. He hoped they helped.

One last thing to do. Wearily he reached out a hand and placed it on the floor.

"Flytta."

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The trip back was not nearly as violent as the trip north, perhaps the ley line was as exhausted as Harry was. Instead of flying across the room, he merely washed up against the stairs like a soggy piece of seaweed on the beach.

Luna scooted down the last couple of steps, and knelt, rolling him onto his back. He was tired, but smiling, and seemed at peace. The green of his eyes flickered with the light of the ley line, or the aurora.

"Welcome back, my husband."

"Thank you, my wife." Luna tilted her head at his voice. It echoed strangely about the room, like there were many speaking instead of just one, like the words were made of magic, not of sound waves.

Harry patted her hand where it lay on his chest, smiled a bit more, and dropped off to sleep. Luna sat down and lifted his head onto her lap, and held his hand gently. Santa Sr. and the elves would be down in a bit, but for now she and Harry would just _be_.

She bent over to kiss him gently. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

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A/N: Not sure there's enough out there to be an actual trope, but I've read enough fanfiction to be able to say that Harry meeting Santa and his elves is a thing. Hope you enjoyed my contribution, and a possible answer to the eternal question, "How _does_ Santa deliver all those presents in one night?"

Shades of Monsters, Inc. present in this story. The scene where Mike and Sully ride their door into and about the vast warehouse of doors is one of my most favourite ever.

On a more serious note, the world is in need of more tiny acts of kindness. If you are blessed with security, however small, share. Even if it's just five dollars set on autopay from your bank account monthly to the organisation of your choice, or one evening a year of your time, give what you can. It adds up.


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